Death Becomes You
by TraSan
Summary: Tag to 5x22, "Swan Song." Spoilers abound. Their true destinies were always about family.
1. Chapter 1

**Death Becomes You**

**Disclaimer: **The car, the concept, and the brothers belong to Kripke et al. The love belongs to us.

**Beta'd: **By the talented Phx. Thank you!

**Special Thanks: **To Sherry and Cati for encouraging my little idea.

**Time Line: **Immediately following 5X22, _Swan Song. _Spoilers abound.

**AN: **If you're concerned about content – please scroll to the author's note at the bottom. I'm the Pollyanna of Supernatural, remember?

**-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-**

It took him a few minutes of standing there under the burnt out street lamp to gain some semblance of understanding of exactly where he was and what had just happened. He'd actually talked to God. Not the one-sided conversations of prayer, but honest to goodness not flesh and blood but spirit to creator communication.

"_It's over, Samuel." _

_A gentle, warm rush of peace and love swelled in Sam, filling all the holes and fissures in his soul left by Lucifer and torment._

"_You did well. You and your brother have both pleased me. I am proud of you."_

_The underlying darkness deep in his heart, the pain that had been with him all his life, slowly ebbed away._

"_What happened?"_

"_You resisted. You made your own choices the way I always intended for you. You are free."_

"_My brother?"_

"_He is free, too."_

_Sam wanted more than that for his brother. He wanted Dean to be at peace, to have the life he should have had all along._

"_He shall."_

_Sam should have known God could hear his thoughts._

"_More like your heart."_

_At a simple touch, joy filled Sam until he felt his aforementioned heart would burst._

"_Go in peace with my blessings."_

And then he was here. Standing under the street light, trying to make sense of his scattered thoughts and the absence of _all_ filling him from within. Sam's mind finally clicked into place enough to recognize Dean, his brother, sitting at a table having dinner with Lisa. He looked – happy.

_I should go. Leave. Give Dean his chance. He deserves this life._ As soon as the thought ran through his head, he discarded it. Sam knew full well how it felt to be the one left behind, knowing his brother was in the pit. He couldn't do it to Dean. He wouldn't. Dean also deserved to make his own choices and to be at peace.

The journey from lamppost to door seemed to happen in an instant, without Sam fully realizing how it was that he ended up on the front stoop. He hesitated only a moment longer before lifting his fist to wrap on wood. It wasn't until his knuckles went _through_ the door that he understood what God had meant. This wasn't Sam's chance to live again. It was his chance to be at peace and to help his brother have peace.

Sam was dead.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Dean watched as Lisa washed dishes, the soapy bubbles removing all the stuck on food and grime from dinner. He wished it were that easy to clean everything.

He was still more than a little pissed with Castiel for healing him. He'd been in so much pain, broken bones, internal injuries, his very soul. He'd practically felt his insides hemorrhaging even as he'd sat there, waiting for the end.

Then Cas, and his damnable new and improved angel mojo had zapped him back to health with a touch. Physical pain – gone. Emotional pain – overpowering. Intense grief crushed his chest until the fire of anger pushed it away far enough he could breathe. _"What'd you do?" _

Dean blinked away the memory when he felt a gentle touch caress his cheek. He looked up at Lisa, shock lingering on his face. She smoothed his forehead, probably trying to erase the crease of sorrow that had taken up permanent residence there.

"You were crying," she whispered in his ear. "Ben was worried."

Dean's eyes flicked to the boy he'd so quickly grown fond of nearly three years ago. Ben eyed him warily.

"I'm sorry," Dean said, nodding at Ben. He lifted his face to gaze up at Lisa. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Ben should go upstairs and get ready for bed."

"Good night, mom," Ben said, hastily beating a path out of the kitchen. He stopped at the threshold, turned around, and made eye contact with the broken man. "Good night, Dean."

"Night, kiddo," Dean said, swallowing the second word before he choked on it. He stood up, and wiped his hands on his jeans. "I should head out."

"Don't leave," Lisa said, running her hands up his chest, resting her palms on his shoulders. Artificial lemon fragrance filled Dean's nose. "I thought you could stay tonight, maybe we'd talk…"

"I want to," Dean said, "but I can't."

Lisa sighed, her dark brown eyes filled with concern. "It's okay."

"No, it's really not," Dean said, cupping her cheek and placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. "But thank you for understanding."

"I'm not sure I do." Lisa took a step back and gave a pointed look to Dean's left at what he knew was the empty glass of whiskey behind him. "I'm trying, Dean, I really am, but I have Ben and I have to think about him first."

Dean nodded, sucking on his bottom lip to keep from saying anything that would make it worse.

"If you'd just talk to me," Lisa insisted. "If I only knew what happened, maybe I could help."

"No one can," Dean grated out. "I promise, I'll talk to you about it one day."

He'd only taken three steps towards the door when Lisa spoke. "Soon, Dean."

He barely hesitated before he strode to the door and out into the night air.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Sam watched as Dean left the house and climbed into the Impala. He couldn't let Dean leave alone; he needed to go with him. At that thought, Sam found himself in the passenger seat of the car, his customary spot for thousands upon thousands of miles of their lives.

Dean turned the key and music blared from the speakers. With an angry snap of his wrist, the guitar solo cut out. Sam eyed his brother with concern. Music was the language of Dean's soul. Turning it off when it wasn't for, well, for Sam, never boded well.

"_Why'd you turn it off, Dean?" _Sam asked, knowing his brother couldn't hear him.

Dean gazed stonily out the windshield. His hands gripped the steering wheel so tight his knuckles were white. In short order they were turning onto a dark, gravel county road on the outskirts of town.

"_You're mad?" _Sam huffed and he rolled his eyes. Of course Dean was angry. Sam remembered clearly just how angry he'd been when Dean was in Hell.

The engine growled as the needle on the speedometer pushed ninety. Angry and reckless.

"_Dean, slow down, man," _Sam begged. Ninety-one. _"Dean!" _He reached for his brother's arm only to have his fingers close in around nothing. He really should have paid more attention to that Patrick Swayze movie.

"Sam," Dean whispered, his tone strangled. His foot came off the gas pedal, the needle slowly edged back down.

Light from the dashboard reflected off the moisture on Dean's face. Sam's brow crinkled in empathy. _"God, Dean…"_

Sam was so busy watching his brother, the sudden grinding, rock-spewing slide as Dean stood on the brake, took him by surprise. The car fish-tailed and Dean fought with the wheel. When the Impala finally stopped, its headlights were aimed in the opposite direction.

Dean rested his head on the steering wheel, his chest heaved with each hitching breath. Sam frantically searched out the window for what had caused his brother to stop so suddenly. There was nothing there.

Sam reached out, his large hand hovering over Dean's bent head. _"Dean."_

"Sammy," Dean said, his voice muffled in the sleeves of his jacket.

They sat there in the middle of the empty road for hours, two souls, one cold car, and a lifetime of memories threatening to bury them both.

………………………………………………………..**Supernatural**………………………………………………………….

AN: I know, I know, it's total AU – but hey, that's part of what fanfic is about, right? I had to have a bro-mo (brother-moment) at the end of that episode and trust me, there's one coming. It's not a death!fic no matter what it appears to be right now.


	2. Chapter 2

**Death Becomes You**

**Disclaimer: **The Winchesters and the Metallicar belong to Kripke et al. The love belongs to us.

**Beta'd: **By the "I want more here" Phx. I know you didn't realize you were beta'ing, but ya were. :)

**Warning: **If you just popped on here and didn't read the first chapter, what're you doing? Who reads the ending first? (*cough*Sherry*cough*). Rest assured, it's not a death!fic. Now, go. Read the first chapter. I'll wait.

………………………………………………………..**Chapter Two**…………………………………………………….……

Sam sat on the edge of the bed watching his brother sleep. Two months. It had been two months of this: Dean trying desperately to keep his promise and failing in a slow and miserable slide, and Sam trying desperately to find a way to communicate with his brother, to let Dean know that he was no longer trapped in the cage with Lucifer. Neither of them was experiencing much success.

Sam vacillated between being with his brother and nothingness. He usually blinked out of existence about the time Dean fell asleep and when Sam was snapped back, Dean was already partway through his day, or even several days. Sam had no idea were he went when he wasn't with his brother, but wherever it was, it was dark, and quiet, and peaceful.

Dean's head jerked once, a low moan escaping and Sam knew why he was here this time. Nightmares. Sam's fingers barely grazed Dean's and, in spite of the fact his touch could not possibly be felt, the whimper growing in his brother's throat cut out.

"_I wish you could let it go," _Sam said, whispering even though his voice couldn't be heard. _"I can't find a way to let you know I'm okay, but I am."_

Sam stopped talking when the furrow in Dean's forehead deepened and he moved restlessly on the sheets.

Okay might be a strong word for it. He was free of the cage, the hole where he'd spent mono y mono time with Lucifer. When the fallen angel had been in his skin, Sam had felt the oily evil presence permeate every inch of him. The anger, the darkness, and the power were simply overwhelming. He'd been beaten, downtrodden, heart-broken, but the torment in the hole, for as long or as short of a time that eternity had lasted, is what had fractured his soul.

Now the pain was background noise. Sam could remember it all, it plagued his mind while he was self-aware and with Dean, but it was muted somehow. As though the memories remained, but the emotions that went with them were mere shadows of the darkness that created them. They still hurt deeply, but they didn't cut as sharply.

Sam curled ethereal fingers around his brother's. He needed to find a way to let Dean know everything would be alright. Dean was free to live a life of his own choosing and Sam could move on as soon as he knew his brother would be okay. The question was simply how.

-0-0-

It had been days this time, and Sam had missed it. Dean and Lisa had apparently reached a mutual decision that while they wanted a relationship, it wasn't the right timing. They were still friends, but it was back to emails, texts, and phone calls. Sam suspected his brother was in some ways, relieved.

The windows were open, the music blaring, and Sam couldn't help but smile. Dean seemed just a shade closer to himself. It wasn't until hours later that Sam realized how wrong he was.

"_You're headed for Stull Cemetery, aren't you?" _Sam asked, his question laced with concern. _"Please don't do anything stupid."_

In response, Dean turned the music on louder.

The miles flew past and as the cemetery loomed ever closer, Sam's fears for his brother grew. Dean fumbled in his pocket, pulling out a heat-damaged piece of metal, the horsemen's rings and _the key _to Lucifer's cage. Dean took his eyes off the road as he examined the rings, turning it over in his hand.

"_Don't," _Sam begged.

Dean's phone chirped, barely audible over the thrumming music pulsating through the car. He studiously ignored it.

Sam glanced at the familiar name on the readout. _"Dean, it's Bobby."_

Dean started thumping the steering wheel in beat to the music and the phone went to voicemail.

Sam stared at his brother. He willed Dean to _feel _him sitting here right in the passenger seat, if only in spirit.

The phone started ringing again.

"_Dean, answer it. It's Bobby." _Sam didn't try to hide the plea in his voice; there was no point anyway. Dean couldn't hear him.

After five rings the call went to voicemail and Dean turned onto the bumpy dirt road into the cemetery.

"_Dean, please don't." _He couldn't let his brother throw away his life in a misguided attempt to rescue Sam from a place where he wasn't trapped any longer.

Dean reached over and switched the tapes. Sam's hopes sank as he heard Def Leopard's _Pyromania_ start playing. Dean stopped the car and threw it into Park. He simply sat there, staring at the devil's key.

Sam knew he was running out of time to stop his brother.

The phone started ringing again. Dean ignored it, turning off the ignition.

Sam's agitation grew. He couldn't let his brother do this, there had to be something Sam could do, that Bobby could do if only Dean would listen.

"_Dean, answer the damn phone!"_

Dean shuddered, the blank expression slid off his face, and he picked up the phone gazing at it as if he didn't recognize it or know what to do with it.

"_Answer it."_

Dean thumbed on the phone and slowly lifted it to his ear. He didn't say anything, just sat there and waited.

"_Dean, you there boy?" _Bobby asked.

"I'm here."

"_Where are you?" _To Sam's ears, the older hunter sounded concerned and bone-weary tired.

"Kansas."

A long exhale whistled through the phone. _"You're not planning anything stupid, are you?"_

Silence.

"_Look, it doesn't matter. Just get your ass over to the Millstone Long Term Care Facility. It's only ten miles from there."_

"Little busy right now," Dean said tonelessly.

"_Damn it, Dean, take the time!" _Bobby sighed, his voice softening. _"I think Sam's there."_

Dean's face went white and his hands shook. The phone fell from his fingers and Sam could hear Bobby's voice calling to his brother from the floorboards. When Dean started the Impala and turned her around, Sam winked back into oblivion.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Dean stood in the doorway to his brother's room for several long minutes. Other than the tubes and wires attached to Sam that indicated life, he was as still as death, face pale and expressionless. The medical staff was stumped. The doctor on duty had informed Dean they couldn't find any compelling physical reason or injury to explain Sam's condition.

Dean wondered if perhaps his brother's body had been expelled from the cage, an unwanted, unneeded vessel now that Lucifer's essence and Sam's soul shared the same jail cell. It was more than he dared hope to think somewhere beneath that unreadable mask lay his brother, impossibly back once more from the dead.

Several times the last couple of months, Dean swore he could feel Sam's presence or that he'd heard his voice. In the end, Dean assumed it was just further proof he was inexorably losing his mind.

_Was it really you, Sammy?_

Dean shook his head, discarding the insane notion. It was much more likely that Sam's body had been discarded and was now lying soulless on the bed. Their lives up to this point pretty much guaranteed it.

Dean strode over to his brother and took a seat in the chair next him. He dropped the bag of Sam's personal items the nurse had given him earlier onto the bedside tray, and stretched an arm across the bed. Dean curled warm fingers around his brother's chilled ones. There wasn't a flicker of recognition on Sam's face, not a flutter of movement or life.

Dean's hope snuffed out completely.

"Sammy, I know I promised, but this was so hard already when I thought you were trapped in that pit with Lucifer. But now? Knowing if I can get you out you have a body to come back to, how can I not try?"

Silence from the shell of his brother on the bed.

"I told you, kiddo. Looking out for you, it's not just my job. It's kind of…" Dean stopped and cleared his throat. "It's kind of who I am."

It reminded Dean too much of talking to his brother's corpse back in Cold Oak. Only this was ten times worse. Sam's body was alive not decaying, his skin warm not cold, and pale not gray. It was like having him here, yet not.

"I can't pretend to be happy. I can't - live like nothing is wrong knowing what's happening to you." Dean shifted uncomfortably in the chair. "You know what I mean, Sammy. You've been here before."

Sam's chest moved up and down with each breath, but that was all.

"'Sides, Lisa and me, it's just not meant to be, at least not right now." Dean took in a deep breath and slowly released it to gain some control over his emotions. "Maybe never, and I can't even try to make it work right now."

There was no response to Dean's words other than the consistent and steady beep of Sam's heart monitor.

"Maybe you're in there somewhere, maybe you're not." Dean swallowed down a ball of denial and loss. "But I can't take that chance. I have to go."

He searched Sam's face for a sign and received none, just as he suspected.

"I probably won't be back, but if I do this thing right, we'll both finally be free." Dean gently squeezed his brother's hand as he stood. The shock of Sam's fingers closing weakly in response sent Dean plummeting back to the chair.

"Don't go." Sam's voice was barely above a whisper, hoarse and dry. "Please."

"Sam?" Hope flared anew, nearly choking off his voice.

Hazel eyes blinked open and a lazy smile spread across Sam's face, dimples briefly appearing.

"Sam…how?"

"I think God found me." Sam licked his dry lips.

Dean poured a glass of water from the pitcher and helped Sam take a few small sips.

"He said, he…" Sam coughed, his face turning red from the effort.

"Easy," Dean said, attempting to reassure his brother. "Take it easy, you can tell me later."

Sam shook his head and began again. "He said you'd be able to have the life you should have had." Sam sounded just this side of indignant, like he was insinuating he'd been lied to. He coughed again, lighter this time. "That you'd have peace."

"Sam, knowing you're okay? That's the _only_ way I'd ever have any kind of peace." Dean's voice cracked and he held the glass for Sam to take another sip of water before he put it on the table. It gave Dean a moment to regain a tenuous hold on his composure. "And the only life I want? Is a road trip – with my brother."

Sam nodded, his quiet "Me too" barely audible. Tears glistened in the hazel depths sparkling gold and blue. "You sure?"

"Very sure." Dean leaned forward, narrowing the distance between he and his brother. "Maybe someday I'll want the white picket fence, maybe we both will now that all that destiny crap is behind us."

Sam nodded, the tears in his eyes threatened to fall, but he held them back.

"But it ain't yet." Dean lightly gripped his brother's forearm. "Right now, we've still got a job to do."

"Yeah, we do."

"And there's no one I trust more to have my back, Sammy." Dean held his brother's gaze, willing him to pick up on the unspoken sentiment.

"Same here, Dean." Message received. Sam's face split with a yawn.

"Get some sleep, bro," Dean said, resting a hand on Sam's chest. "I'll be here when you wake up."

Sam lifted his hand, snagged the collar of Dean's jacket and pulled him down closer. A long arm came up and wrapped around his shoulder. "Promise me?"

Dean returned the hug, holding his brother close and tight. "Promise."

"We really need to talk about your reckless driving," Sam whispered as he fell asleep, his hand slowly sliding off Dean's shoulder.

Then, and only then, did Dean release his hold on his brother. His face puckered momentarily as he tried to figure out Sam's odd comment about his driving. Discarding it as the ramblings of his half-asleep brother, Dean sat there for a long time and simply enjoyed the novelty of watching Sam sleep. There was a part of Dean that feared if he took his eyes off Sam, for even a second, he would disappear.

Dean closed his eyes, keeping one hand on his brother's arm, and rested for awhile. He awakened when the nurse came in to check Sam's vitals and Dean told her how his brother had talked to him. She smiled, promising a doctor would be by soon to check on Sam and left.

Not wanting to turn on the television and disturb the easy quietness that existed between them, Dean opened the personal items bag he'd been given only a few short hours ago. There, on top of his brother's folded shirt, was a familiar pendant.

Dean's heart stuttered as his brother's words came back to him. _"I think God found me."_

Dean carefully removed the cherished gift with shaking fingers, and then closed his hand, clutching it tightly inside. He pressed his fist to wobbling lips as a tear slowly traversed down his face. Dean placed his free hand softly on Sam's wrist and lifted his face skyward.

_Thank you._

Somewhere in the vast universe, in a place and time where places and time had no meaning, Dean's prayer of gratitude was heard.

_fin_

………………………………………………………….**Supernatural**………………………………………………………….

AN: Sappy little bro-mo though it may be, I just had to have a hug. I think we deserved it.

Happy hiatus everyone! :D


End file.
